


My Chest Don't Feel Right

by flannelfeelings



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad Michael, Self Harm, Supportive Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/flannelfeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm actually not a 5sos fan but I wrote this oneshot for my friend hope u like!!!</p>
    </blockquote>





	My Chest Don't Feel Right

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually not a 5sos fan but I wrote this oneshot for my friend hope u like!!!

Michael's been acting different lately. It's not so much in his personality as much as it is his movement and behavior. He'll pull away when Luke tries to lay an arm around his shoulders and cuddle him, he's always rubbing nervously at his thighs, he acts anxious, as if every moment is an opportunity for mistake.

Luke can't stand to see his partner this way, it's almost as if Michael is drawing away from himself as well as others. He's detaching from his surroundings like he thinks its easier to just dehumanize and shut down. Something is seriously wrong, but Michael won't let him in. Luke so desperately wants to engulf the other boy in his arms and pepper soft kisses along the thin line of stubble on his soft jaw. He wants to gaze into those beautiful viridescent eyes and get lost like some cheesy fucking romantic comedy and forget all his troubles. He wants to run a hand through that stupid goddamn amazing red hair and make an offhand jest about it falling out from excessive dye. Michael would've laughed at a remark like that three weeks ago. Not anymore. Michael doesn't laugh anymore.

Now the only thing on his lips is the ghost of a smile and a tainted stain of cheap vodka.

Michael was away today, with his mom for her birthday. Luke had hoped seeing his family would put Michael in a better mood, but he'd seemed just as introverted and hesitant as always when he left this morning. He didn't even kiss Luke goodbye.

Luke's been wondering if perhaps Michael is simply growing tired of him. Maybe he wants to move on to better opportunities and different people. Luke wouldn't blame him. Michael's a wild energetic person, he doesn't like to be contained. Or at least, he used to be that way. Now, as they sit at the dinner table, eating over idle silence, Luke's chest feels painfully tight at the thought of Michael leaving. He knows how terribly it'd hurt him to see Michael go, but seeing him slowly spiral into a corpse-like parody of himself hurts worse.

"Michael," Luke says softly as he scrapes his fork over a half empty plate of tasteless food.

"Hmm?" Michael asks in a disinterested voice.

Luke licks his lips and swallows his heart, which has crawled up into his throat, "I know what's going on."

Michael's head snaps up and his eyes narrow calculatingly, "Excuse me?"

That's the most he's said in weeks. Luke rolls with it, "I know why you've so distant. You don't love me anymore."

Michael just stares at him, slack-jawed and glossy eyed. Disbelief entrenched in his handsome features, he manages, "Huh?"

"It's okay. I understand. You can't love someone forever necessarily. If you want to leave-"

"I don't want to fucking leave," Michael snaps, eyes darkening with Luke's offer, "where the fuck did you get that idea Lucas?"

Luke cringes. Michael only uses his full name when he's writhing under him during some damn good sex, or when he's really upset. "The way you've been acting...it...I just I assumed-"

"Well Jesus Christ don't just assume shit Luke."

Luke's fork clatters to the plate, echoing over his voice as he demands, "then what the fuck is wrong with you Michael?"

Michael's adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. His multifaceted jade eyes search Luke's face, but for what, Luke doesn't know. He picks up his fork, takes a bite and chews slowly before replying, "It doesn't matter."

Luke pushes his chair back with a defeating shriek that shatters the tedious silence around them, "yes it fucking does! I can't stand this Michael!"

Michael stands as well, anger plastered across his face, "fine Luke! You really wanna know!?"

He reaches down to the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the zipper and buttons before beginning to wiggle his hips out of them.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Shut up." Michael finishes removing his pants and steps out from behind the table.

Several thin, shallow red slits cross cross up and down his pale thighs, sliding into his ivory skin with smooth strokes. Luke's gaze casts in horror over the many injuries that dance across his lovers flesh. Luke's cobalt eyes scrutinize each cut, searching for reason behind every one. When his futile stare proves unhelpful, he returns his sight to Michael's face. He won't look Luke in the eye, and his lower lip is quivering with unsaid words.

"Pull your pants up." Luke orders in a voice he does not recognize as his own.

Michael obliges, slowly sliding the jeans back up over his legs and fastening the buttons. They stare at each other for a moment, before Michael's voice smashes through the tension.

"Well, you've got your answer. Can we be done here?"

"No." Luke snaps, harsher than he intended. He inhales deeply through his nostrils and faces Michael head-on, "why?"

Michael shakes his head once, "so many reasons Luke. I couldn't fucking answer you if I tried."

Luke scratches the back of his neck, gnawing on his lip before replying, "you...Michael I can't watch you do this to yourself. We gotta get you help."

Michael fidgets, "I don't need-"

"Yes you fucking do." Luke runs a hand across his forehead, kneading the flesh with his calloused fingers, "Michael please let me help you."

"You gonna fix me huh?" Michael grows, suddenly angry, "you think you can fucking fix me?"

"You're not broken Michael!"

There's another thick silence, before Michael falls back into the adjoining living room couch behind him. He lets his breath out slowly, and Luke closes the distance, treading lightly as if each step might chip off a piece of his boyfriend. He sits down gingerly beside Michael, licking his lips once before repeating quietly, "you aren't broken Michael."

Michael's voice is small and timid, no hint of venom of ferocity left in his drained tone, "I can't do it alone Luke."

Luke reaches over to cup Michael's face, for the first time in weeks seeing a small glimmer of hope in those glistening green eyes, "you don't have to."

Michael moves his hand up to squeeze Luke's, a small, reluctant smile crossing his face, "you just can't let me be miserable."

"When you're miserable, I'm miserable. And I want us both to be happy."

Michael nods once, huffing his breath out again, "where do we start?"

"First things first, lets order pizza. I can't cook for shit."

A tiny, unsure laugh escapes Michael's mouth, "I can deal with that."

"I love you Michael."

"Yeah...yeah I love you too Luke."


End file.
